The X Affair
by Velvet Death
Summary: AU. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer... although falling in love with them may be a bit too close. A wrong move, as one's job was to arrest the other. How Red X and Raven found trust and partnership through trickery and deceit.


**THE X AFFAIR**  
_A Proposition_

"I have a proposition."

Little did the renowned thief know that when the stranger said those four little words, his life would change drastically. Then again, he was a man who took problems on as they came and never tried to anticipate them… much. So, as he looked up over his morning paper at the girl who had slid into the seat across from him, he adopted a mildly interested expression. Truth be told, he wasn't about to let himself be hired by a young child, not even twenty, but it was a rule of conduct to be open-minded to every 'proposition' that comes his way.

The young woman leaned conspiringly over to him, strands of long black hair tumbling from her shoulder to fall next to her face. She was not particularly tall, maybe around five- foot-three, but the muscles in her arms indicated she had been working out lately. This was, then, no ordinary child trying to steal some little trinket and asking for a pointer.

The man looked around him, finding the train car empty of all but an elderly lady dozing on the opposite corner. It was the early-morning train, and no one bothered to get up so soon on a Sunday, either, so the car was practically empty. "Go on," he said cautiously.

"It involves danger, careful planning, and a reward of fifty-million dollars at the end of the journey. What do you say?"

Fifty million was a hefty sum. "Total, or just my share?"

"Your share, of course." The girl cast a sidelong look at the old woman and proceeded to whisper, "Interested? Tomorrow, meet me in Kasson at 6pm, at the Newton fountain in the square." With that, she turned and exited as the train slowed to a halt in Weedlin Station.

The man rustled the newsprint, adjusted the false glasses that kept slipping off his nose, and continued to read. It wasn't as if he was about to take the offer seriously, of course. A girl like her couldn't have something to steal worth one hundred million dollars. She wasn't nearly smart enough.

( - )

The next day, sitting on a green-painted bench a little ways away from the fountain, the thief looked about for the girl as he pretended to laze about, his legs propped on the other side of the bench.

He wasn't taking the offer seriously. Of course not.

It was late winter, and as the sun sank behind the mountainous skyscrapers of the metropolitan Kasson horizon, the man felt a pang of disappointment. It was six-fifteen now, and rather obvious that she was not about to show up. He had been looking forward to rejecting the girl, too. Or, if the job seemed actually interesting, he could also look forward to a challenge. Thirty years of thieving from private collections now made normal jobs boring, and it wasn't every day he could get his hands on a hundred million.

"Sorry I'm late," said a voice behind him, not sounding the least bit repentant. "You know the traffic."

He was lying sprawled on the bench, and only had to tilt his head back to see her standing over him. In her arms was a folder and now her hair was pulled up into a knot on top of her head. She was looking down at him rather expectantly, as if she wanted him to do something.

After a couple seconds of staying in this pose, the thief realized what exactly it was that she wanted and straightened, allowing her the other part of the bench. She sat down, handing the manila folder to him. "Three words. Egyptian. Private. Collection."

He opened the folder and scanned the contents in haste, for what she had uttered were near-magic words. The Bust of Osiris was coming to the Georgovi Mansion in Chicago. It was in the private collection of a billionaire by the name of Tyron, and he was only lending it to the Georgovis' for a couple of days, for their annual New Year's Gala.

"What are you planning to do with the Bust?" he asked, closing the folder. A bunch of pigeons waddled over, rather like ducks, then left when they realized neither of the humans had food to spare.

"It's a job, financed by a friend who's fanatic about Egyptian art."

He held out the folder and gave her what he knew to be a patronizing smile. "I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "This will not do. You see, I am getting a little too old for maneuvering across a field of lasers, sliding down a wall with police in pursuit, or even the excitement of finally getting the statue, jewel, or whatever it is you want."

"I said, it's a job, which means I will also be working. I'll do the maneuvering, the sliding, and even handle the excitement," she said. "You are to help me on strategy. That's all." She gave a cold little smile that did not reach her eyes.

"Credentials?"

"A good thief keeps her lips sealed about her heists."

"Meaning none big enough that they would be conspicuous. You're young yet, so I'll excuse you for not realizing that the mastermind of every great heist is known throughout the Underground."

She ran her fingers through her hair, her eyes dancing along the scenery, refusing to look at him. "You know as well as I that there is no Underground."

"Touché." He stretched, yawning conspicuously.

"Will you accept it or not?" she asked, an edge of impatience sneaking into her voice.

"Tell you what," he said, giving her a wink as he stood up, "if you can get into my safe without tripping any of the alarms, I will take the job. You know where I live, right?" As she stuttered, he walked off, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He felt rather sorry for the girl—it wasn't as if she was actually going to get into his safe. No one knew where he lived, after all. Oh well, he mused. The job had seemed interesting.

( - )

"Oh, for Azar..." Raven Roth growled as she flipped open her cell phone. Dialing her boss, she watched the receding figure of the man she had tried, fruitlessly, to hire. A wind was growing, blowing towards her, so that it wasn't possible for him to hear her as she held the heated conversation with her brilliant leader about his brilliant plan. "He wants me to go crack his safe, in his private place!" she said, practically yelling.

Dick Grayson, her caring, clever chief, the one who had decided she was dyeing her hair black and changing her voice to trick that stupid thief into accepting a job from her, sighed. "Can't say we weren't expecting something like that."

"Then it was all for nothing, wasn't it? The hair, the new clothes, the _alteration of my fingerprints_…"

"Bruce wanted to try it!" Dick replied indignantly. "It wears off, anyway."

"Yeah. In three years."

She heard other voices in the background, and could see Dick pulling away from the phone to talk with them. When he came back, he sounded excited. A bad, bad sign. "Good news, and bad news."

Raven was silent for a long time. Then, trying not to make it sound like she wanted to kill her darling superior, she said, "Hmm?"

"The good news is that it is possible to find where he lives. The bad news is that you're going to have to pack up for the colder temperatures."

"Iceland, Greenland, Scotland, Disneyland…"

"Try Canada," said Dick. "The upper reaches of British Columbia."

"Oh, joy."

( - )

Standing in front of the three-story house, at least ten miles from civilization, Raven wondered why it couldn't be Kory on this job, but her. Pulling on another glove and clasping it to her sleeve with a black buckle, she looked the mansion up and down. It was made of brick, with vines climbing up and down the walls and a spiked, electrically reinforced fence encircling three sides, the last protected by jagged rocks and roaring ocean, an almost impenetrable fortress. That was, _almost_ impenetrable.

There was a separate sewer system that opened into the ocean, but as it was unused, it fell to ruin. Red X did not come back to his house much, and when he did, he did not stay for more than a couple of hours. It held his treasures, but little more. It was left unprotected for much of the year, except for the heat-sensors on the second floor and the maze of the third, where getting lost meant certain death. The first floor, thankfully, was normal, only with poison on every metal object, and sulfurous gas sprayed at any trace of movement.

It cost poor Red X close to a million to keep up his mansion, but since he was worth around 70 million and the company from where he got his killer poison and gas owed him, he didn't need much to keep his house safe. There weren't even video cameras outside, being as there was no one inside to watch them.

Raven knew that the sea would be freezing at this time of the year, but she was ready to do anything for her job. Walking over to the roaring ocean, she took a glance at the drop down to the water, where a wrong dive would mean death on the sharp rocks, and gritted her teeth. She was demanding a raise when she got back to Dick—a raise and a personal parking space.

She ran toward the cliff from a little ways back, launching herself in the air and pulling herself into the tightest ball possible. Wind whistled in her ears for a split second before she hit the surface of the water, pointed toes down. Her hips ached from the impact, as did her feet, but her legs and arms were unscathed. She kicked her way to the top, taking a gulp of air, some of the freezing ocean water trickling into her mouth as well. Beside her was a particularly large rock—she had just missed it.

Taking a moment to orient herself, Raven then dove back down into the water, swimming towards the round opening of the sewer. The winter also meant there was less water, and the opening was only half covered with the dark waves. There were vertical bars over the opening, allowing only the very bulimic to slip through, and then only with difficulty. Raven fished a mechanized blade from out of a pouch on her knee. Switching it on, the round piece of metal sawed through the rusting bars easily. Taking two away, she threw them out to sea, gripping the handle of the pizza-cutter blade in her teeth, and swam in.

A little later, the water level lowered and the tunnel grew more cramped. The incline meant that she was heading upwards towards his house. A little later, the tunnels divided into three, the one on the right from the lavatories, the one on the left for the showers, and the one in the middle towards a trash disposal in the courtyard. The middle tunnel, though heading straight up, was big enough for her to go through, and tucking the knife away, Raven also peeled protective layers from her gloves and shoes, revealing a coat of magnets beneath.

The tunnels were constructed of metal, and it was easy enough climbing up on all fours, as long as she kept away from where clumps of trash caught on the walls of the tunnel and grew fungi and mold. Once or twice, her feet slipped on the mold, and she nearly fell back down. She caught herself just in time, however, and holding her breath, continued.

When the tunnel suddenly turned an angle and grew smaller, Raven took her hands, pressing hard on the sides of the tunnel, and swung her legs upwards. It took three tries, but finally her feet caught on the metal of the tunnel straight above her and she was now upside down, her head pointing in the direction from which she came. She clicked her heels together four times, starting a process that ate away at the metal above her.

As the foundation weakened, dirt started to fall through in clumps from the thinning metal until the only dirt left was the single clump on her feet. Shaking her shoes free of the soil, she gently lowered her knees until her head was pointing upwards again. She climbed up towards the small, circular hole. Digging her toes into the tunnel until she was sure she could move her hands away, Raven gripped the surface with her fingers, walked her toes up the tunnel, and pushed her head and shoulders up out of the hole.

More dirt fell away, and she was now losing her grip with her feet. She was beginning to slide, and falling from the hole. She pulled on the grass nearby, only to have them uprooted in her fingers. Swearing, she found a solid section of earth and pushed herself up. Her feet came away from the sides, dangling. Grunting, Raven pushed, moving her hips out of the hole, followed by the thighs and her knees.

When she finally got out of the hole, Raven collapsed nearby, taking in deep breaths to quiet her pounding heart. But she couldn't rest. She was inside, but she had to maneuver towards his safe.

( - )

"Dick, are you sure this is all right?" asked Kory, looking through the file on Red X. "I am of the opinion Raven should not be on this mission at all. Red X is a bad man, and very good at what he does."

"Yeah. Maybe Rae isn't able to handle it." Victor said, placing his program on pause and lifting his headphones away. He had been working on decoding a message the government had sent to them. "As good as she is at infiltration and negotiation, Red X has been working for years now and is sure to spot someone like her."

Dick Grayson plucked the folder from Kory's fingers and gave them a sour look. "Raven can handle it. I'm sure. After all, she is Trigon's daughter. If anyone can act, it's the offspring of our greatest agent ever. Trust me. I knew what I was doing when I sent her."

But as he turned away and looked at the mug shot of Red X, the only picture the thief had ever received from authorities, he worried.

( - )

She had entered the first floor without much trouble. She only had to remember not to touch the metal and to skip into the next room when she noted yellow smoke drifting out of the vents. There were a few close calls, and she had had to rest near an open window to regain her breath and clear her head. When she had finally reached the stairs, which were made of weight-sensitive steps, she remembered the heat-sensors on the second floor and covered her head with a black mask made of the same material as her black suit.

It was state-of-the-art, a suit that insulated her and kept the outside completely cool, meaning that the sensors would detect next to nothing.

The stairs spiraled upwards, curling around space a meter in diameter. Raven unfastened a long, oblong grapple from her side. She swung it up, and it caught on a gap in the wall where, in the early years, the owners had placed candles. Testing it for strength, Raven began to climb lithely. Swinging herself over the banister, she landed on the second floor.

Phase 1, complete.

( - )

Red X leaned close, his breath mingling with hers. She licked her lips, staring into his eyes.

"Show me your house," she whispered, her voice tinged with the promise of a rough, sleepless night.

"You don't want to go there. It's cold and damp and empty. Why don't we just stay here?" he replied before leaning forward to plant kisses on her neck and shoulders.

She placed her hands firmly on his chest, shoved him away, and shook her head. "I feel like a whore, the way you always have to come to my apartment. Show me your house. What? Do you have a wife?"

"I live the good ol' bachelor life, he replied, his fingers tracing a path up the inside of her silky leg.

"Show me your house," she replied obstinately, catching his hand and pulling it away.

"Fine," he sighed, tired. "Get the keys."

( - )

It was too easy, Raven realized as she ascended the ladder that lead to the third floor. The second floor had nothing in it; no trick traps, not endless corridors. It seemed as if he was trying to trick her by making everything too easy. Either that, or he was too cocky to realize that even someone who had never stolen anything would find his house a breeze. But, she reminded herself, the third floor was the hardest. Dick had warned her.

( - )

"Dick!" Garfield yelled in panic. "Dick, c'mere. There's something wrong."

If his blotchy complexion and computer-paled skin did not already show Garfield's geek-status, his position—hacking specialist –would. He spent his time monitoring the places their agents entered for any disturbances and was the first to tell them they had to pull out if it was unsafe for them. Since Raven was all the way in Canada, there was no way he could communicate with her except for the surface of her watch, which blinked red to tell her she had to leave. And right now, he was ready to flip the emergency switch to tell her to get out.

"What?" Dick replied, sipping at his coffee.

"Look at the screen. See the first floor? Room 42 was supposed to filled with gas by now. There isn't _any_."

"So?" Dick said. "Maybe X's security failed on him."

"That's what I thought, too, until the heat sensors on the second floor turned off. Dick, he's coming back right _now_."

Dick froze. "Flip the switch," he said. "Flip it!"

Garfield nodded, lifting the lid to the tiny piece of metal. He flicked the strip from the _off_ position to _on_. "C'mon, Raven," he whispered. "Look at your watch. C'mon."

( - )

Thank Azar. She had accidentally activated a trap on the third floor, sending darts dipped in poison whirling all across the room. She was able to block one or two of them, and the furniture stopped the rest, but one wrong move and she would have collapsed on the floor for Red X to find and most probably torture. She would have to be more careful.

"Follow the golden thread," she whispered, eyes scanning the walls. Red X was a fan of mythology—many of his greatest heists had involved objectives with mythological connections. He especially relished Greek mythology, and it made sense that his maze could be solved by a ball of golden yarn--or, more precisely, pictures of yarn. One hung in this room, too, ribbons of twisted sunshine, next to the door leading to a different room. She memorized the position she was in—she would be on her own to find the way back across the maze.

Thesus, decided Raven as she opened the door and found herself in front of a gigantic titanium vault, was a good, good man.

( - )

"This is my house," said Red X, leading his current dalliance through the main entrance. God, if she didn't have such a nice ass, he wouldn't be doing this in the first place. "Couple centuries old, Victorian build, renovated by yours truly. Inside you'll find many pieces of art on the wall, but don't ooh over them like others. It pisses me off."

They ascended the staircase, the young woman oohing and ahhing anyway. Red X growled under his breath. "Where did you get them, darling?" she asked, tittering.

"Here and there. Mostly inheritance and auction," he lied. "My bedroom is on the third floor, so just go through here." He pulled her through a door and up a narrow set of stairs hidden away by a curtain. As he turned the corner, ready to rip the clothing off of his lover and ravage her right there, he noticed something peculiar.

A single dart, embedded in his wall, greeted him. _...Shit._

Comprehension dawned as he looked to the open door where the dart had issued from and found another room covered in the same spikes. No victim, however. Red X let go of the woman and rushed through the room to reach his vault. "Honey, where're you going?" the woman called after him.

He skidded in and stared.

The large, thick round door stood open. Rolls of canvas, pedestals of jewels, rows of sculptures, priceless artifacts, all familiar friends, grouped around a young girl standing in the center of the vault, quiet admiration shining on her face. "You can't possibly be old enough," she said, fleering at him, "to have stolen all of this."

"Trust me when I say," glowered Red X, "I'm old."

"You sure don't act it," teased the girl. He recognized her, but barely. Small of stature, long black hair, and a challenging glare. The memory of a fountain and Egyptian art skipped merrily into his conscious.

"You said," she said, laughter tingeing her voice, "that you'll accept my offer if I break into your safe. Well, here I am, X. Are you going to accept or not?" She was wearing a skin-tight black wetsuit that glistened in the bluish light of his vault. A watch flashed red light at her wrist. X glanced at her figure with interest; small breasts, hourglass figure, proportional legs. If he didn't have a woman waiting in the other room, he would have been more than interested in her.

"I said," he stalled for time, "if you did it without tripping any alarms. You did trip some, according to the decimated furniture in the next room."

"Decimated? Please. Nothing needle and thread won't fix."

"Thread, eh?" So she knew his secret.

The girl smirked, joyously triumphant and proud with the pride of youth when they one-upped an elder. "When will you stop the banter and answer me?"

"Baby, is there someone in there?" asked the woman, slinking into the room in her metallic miniskirt. "Oh, hello. Why didn't you tell me you had people over? Is she a maid?"

The girl was quite speechless, and Red X was even embarrassed for the dolt. "No, she's not a maid," he said, taking her by the arm and leading her out. "Go to my room and wait for me. I have unfinished business."

"She doesn't look like an advertising exec," replied the woman with a trained pout.

"A client," Red X replied.

Once she was out of hearing distance, the girl burst into derisive laughter. "Advertising? You've gone up the social ladder, Red X."

He smiled, an act that resembled more of a snarl than any sort of expression of happiness. "Says the girl who breaks into a house to prove a point."

"Yes or no, X. Answer me."

He gave her a shrewd, appraising look. Not everyone could find the vault. Not everyone could even get access into the house at all. As much as he was reluctant to say it, the kid had talent. "Fine. I'll help you. First I have to know your name, though."

"Call me Raven." Victory overwhelmed her features, and under that, Red X could discern a flood of pride.

( - )

**Disclaimer** No copyright infringement is intended for both **Teen Titans **and the story from which this was inspired, **Entrapment**.

**Author's Note: **I understand that I haven't updated in a long time, and I had promised the X Factor, but this story is one of my favorites and I just have to write it out. Raven may seem a bit out of character—she's still sarcastic and still dark, but in this universe, she's able to be triumphant and happy, if only for a while. Remember, this is AU, so our characters don't have powers. However, they still have similar personalities... so I think that will make up for the absence. Certain plotlines will be different from the movie **Entrapment** staring Catherine Zeta-Jones and Sean Connery (is that how you spell his name?) but the premise is the same—older thief, younger agent involved in rooting him out, love blossoms, stealing... yadayadayada...

About the hiatus I took from writing, I'm not quite sure what happened. Maybe school and such took its toll on me. However, what is important is that in April, I started dating and I was madly in love for a couple weeks. We broke up a few days ago, and I guess somehow I just got back in the writing mood. 3 As a warning: my writing will indulge in dreams and fantasies about love for a while, but relationships end, and sometimes not on a happy note, and I am a bit fond of bittersweet endings. So if you think that I'll satisfy the reader, please, _stop_ reading, because what I'm writing is my own truth, my own dreams, and my own reality. I may love a pairing, but I might not end with it, because, hey, life is a box of chocolates. _You never know what I might write_.


End file.
